


Mother

by NeverQuiteLogistical



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Motherhood, Other, Suicide Attempt, mentions of geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 03:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18731017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverQuiteLogistical/pseuds/NeverQuiteLogistical
Summary: Yennefer remembers those days in Aretuza when she was brought under the tutelage of Tissaia de Vries, and realizes Ciri's importance to her.(Posted on Tumblr, now moving to AO3)





	Mother

**Author's Note:**

> This has been posted on Tumblr a long time ago. I'm moving it to AO3 because I never really got the grasp of using Tumblr.

Papa, please! What have I done wrong?

Yennefer bit her lip, slapped herself on both cheeks and widened her eyes once again. It was way past the hour of the wolf, but she knew she must be determined. And so she skimmed through the pages of the heavy tome, again and again. She felt a slight ache in her back, and dared not reach behind for fear that she would touch her bump, the reason that she and her father had hated her for.

Her neck was stiff and aching. She had always asked herself, why was she born this way? She had seen other girls through the window of her house, how beautiful they were and how proudly they could walk with their head held high. She could only look at the ground wherever she walked, for fear that Papa would beat her for ‘looking so proud’, as he said.

The other girls in Aretuza did not like her, she knew. The other girls in Aretuza had freckles, some had frizzly hair and some had small eyes. Still they were all prettier than her. After all, who would ever befriend her – a hunchback?

Yennefer’s hands shivered as she flipped a page, her lips quivering as she held back tears. She realized that she was no longer reading instructions of the incantations and spells, but thinking about the moment when her father had dragged her to Aretuza. The tutors expected a lot from her, shooting her cold gazes and forcefully straightening her arm whenever she tried to cast a spell. She refrained from crying out in pain, and her lips had bled from how hard she was biting them.

Wizards are mean and malicious, she remembered them saying. Do not expect kindness and warmth when you’re here!

But she did not ask to be here.

Unable to hold back, Yennefer slammed the book shut and pushed it away. Tears streamed down her face, but she dared not cry out too loud for fear that the girls could hear, and they would laugh at her and beat her again. She pulled open the drawer and retrieved a small knife that she had hidden away.

She had mulled over it for weeks.

Without hesitation, she slashed both her wrists.

Tissaia de Vries was in her room, studying a grimoire when she knew something was wrong. She reached for the crystal which briefly showed the room where the adept stayed in, through another crystal which she had secretly planted a few days ago. She had been fascinated with the girl when she first appeared, eyes dull as she hunched over, not daring enough to look up at anyone. She threw a disgusted glare at her father, and knew that the girl would be safer in Aretuza compared to being at home.

Somehow she knew that she could be intelligent, and talented. It was just that she was born in the wrong family.

And so when she saw how the girl was slumped against the chair, both her wrists bleeding heavily, Tissaia felt a sense of urgency and got out of her room immediately. She understood the twisted hallways and criss-crossed corridors of the students’ dormitory like the back of her palm, and found the girl’s quarters in no time.

She twisted the door knob vigorously. Locked. Tissaia muttered a spell, and the lock clicked, then the door opened by itself.

Inside, everything was in order, except for the girl who remained still in the chair, the dagger dropped to the floor. Her lips had gone pale, and her black hair plastered to her cheeks, cold sweat beading on her forehead.

Tissaia walked over in quick strides, held both her little wrists and cast a spell, hoping it was not too late to stop the bleeding. It staunched the bleeding for a moment, and she knew she had to hurry and seal the wound for good, and so she lifted her in both her arms, suddenly surprised that she was a lot lighter than she expected.

Before she entered her own chamber, she risked a quick glance upon the girl’s face, and she couldn’t help but notice how dull and lifeless those violet eyes were, even though the girl clearly held a brief sign of life.

It was snowing outside. The adepts and apprentices of Aretuza were out there in the courtyard, screaming and shouting in joy. Yennefer could hear it. She flipped another page of the tome, then with a grunt, whispered an incantation and flushed out the noise that was disrupting her concentration.

The library was deserted. Not even the librarians nor the tutors were there. Just silence. And Yennefer.

A voice she did not expect to hear startled her, however.

“It’s Yule,” Tissaia spoke suddenly, and Yennefer yelped. “The tests are over. It’s the holiday season. The girls are having fun and stuffing themselves in the banquet hall. And yet you’re still here,”

Yennefer did not answer, nor did she look her in the eyes. Her finger merely fidgeted with the page of the tome.

Tissaia’s voice softened. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m studying about illusion magic, my lady –”

“You know very well that is not what I meant,” Tissaia cut her off. Yennefer pursed her lips, still refusing to look up. “I’ve been told your progress is remarkable in all fields of magic. That you aced all tests wonderfully,”

The girl bit her bottom lip. She knew Tissaia wasn’t going to leave until she gave her a proper answer.

“That’s because I have nothing else to do,” she said, quietly. “The other girls, they have banquets to attend, reasons to doll up, friends they can have fun with. I only have myself. And so I have to hone my skills. Or else I am nothing,”

Tissaia pulled back a chair and sat down next to her. Yennefer lowered her head even further.

“Yennefer,” her voice was stern. “If you spend the remaining of your days cooped up and studying, then you’re nothing more than a hag that lives a meaningless life. I’ve straightened your back so you can go out there and walk straight with confidence and dignity, not to live like a coward,”

“The bullying stopped,” Yennefer confessed, her words tumbling out of her lips before she could refrain herself. “It did. After they knew what you did. Then they started giving me disdainful looks. None of them dared to approach me. But I can hear them. They said I got this far because I was licking your boots to earn your favour,”

The headmistress of Aretuza remained silent. Yenenfer’s lips curled into a grimace.

“I know you mean well, Mistress Tissaia. But it is best if I am left to fend for myself. I come from nothing, and I’ll return to nothing, and I don’t wish to taint your reputation as the headmistress of the academy,”

Tissaia’s lips were taut, but she said nothing. The girl’s violet eyes glistened with unshed tears, tears that she was trying very hard to hold back but failing.

“Wipe those tears, girl. You look pathetic,” Tissaia reprimanded. Yennefer complied immediately, drying her tears on her sleeves. She then held the girl’s tiny wrist in her hand, her grip firm yet gentle. “Come with me, child,”

Not daring enough to resist her, Yennefer stood and followed. Tissaia led her through a series of walkways and corridors. On the way they met several adepts who greeted her out of respect but stared at Yennefer out of curiosity and animosity. The girl only kept her gaze levelled with the floor, trying hard to keep up with Tissaia’s pace.

Finally, they reached a door. Tissaia opened it, revealing the stark whiteness of the snow that continued to fall. Yennefer stood in the opened door, unable to fathom the purpose behind all these. The headmistress walked into the small, her hands folded and placed behind her back.

“Have you ever seen the snow up close, Yennefer?” Tissaia asked. “How every droplets float from the sky, how they melt as you try to catch them. Have you ever truly admired the beauty of it? Come, child. If you hide in there any longer, I’ll have to drag you out,”

“Mistress Tissaia,” she approached her reluctantly. “What if the other girls –”

“Ignore those talking behind your back, that’s where they belong,” she said. Yennefer slammed her mouth shut. Just moments after that, a snowball hit Yennefer hard in the face, throwing her off balance. The coldness of it broke her trance, and she fell on her rump.

“Mistress Tissaia,” she warned. “I think, there’s someone attacking us,”

“Is there?” Tissaia arched a brow. Before Yennefer could open her mouth, another snowball hit her again. She shook the snow out of her hair, then noticed another snowball floating near Tissaia, her fingers fiddling as they glowed with magic. Tissaia’s face brightened with a smile.

Yennefer opened her mouth to speak, then Tissaia threw another snowball in her way. Unlike the previous time, Yennefer ducked, and the snowball flew over her head. She reached for the snow beneath her feet and curled a snowball instantly, then threw it at her without hesitation. The first few missed her, until the third one. Tissaia didn’t bother to dodge and it hit her dress, the snow melting instantly upon contact. Yennefer’s smile died, fearing she may have gone too far, until the headmistress threw back her head and laughed.

“There’s the child in you,” she remarked, then approached Yennefer. Tissaia moved her hands about, a blue glow enveloped her fingers. The snow around them began to shift, then some began shaping itself, forming figures of reindeers, elks and wolves. Yennefer watched in wonder, how the headmistress could create something so beautiful with just a wave of her hand.

“Magic is more than just to be studied, Yennefer,” Tissaia then placed a hand behind Yennefer’s back, urging her forward. “True, it is a skill, a knowledge. But learning the fundamentals is not enough. Knowing when to apply it, is the essence of learning magic,”

She nudged her. The girl looked back at her mentor with large violet eyes.

“You have potential,” Tissaia said. “You may have come from nothing, but that doesn’t mean you’ll return to nothing. Not if you change it,” she gestured towards the snow sculptures she had just created.

Yennefer stood straight, and stared ahead. She suddenly felt confident. In herself. In her skills.

The girl closed her eyes, then lifted both her hands.

The dream ended, and Yennefer woke from her slumber. The first thing she recognised was the cold, and how empty her bedside was. The beeswax candle had burnt until there was nothing remaining but a stub.

The window that led to her chamber creaked ominously. If she were still groggy with sleep before this, she was now alert and wide awake. It was too dark to see anything, but still Yennefer dared not move, for fear she may scare the perpetrator away.

She could trace the outline of a figure climbing through the window. Yennefer prepared to cast a spell, to catch the thief off guard, until the figure slipped and tumbled into her chamber, yelping and exposing who she was.

Yennefer sighed out of relief, then hopped out of her bed. “Dammit, Ciri. What do you think you were doing?” the sorceress went to the bedside and snapped her fingers, lighting the lantern on her bedside table.

Ciri landed on her rump, and rubbed her head painfully. She looked down in shame and mumbled. “Sorry, Lady Yennefer,”

“You could have come through the front door,”

“It was locked, Lady Yennefer. I don’t wish to wake you,”

“And you think climbing through my window wouldn’t?”

Yennefer crossed her arms angrily. Ciri dared not meet her eyes. “I dreamt of it again,” the ashen-haired girl spoke with a small voice.

Her anger diminished, but only a little. The girl could have fallen to her death, and Yennefer knew she had to admonish her properly. But she knew what dream she was talking about. “The one with the black knight?” she asked.

The girl nodded.

Yennefer sighed. She pulled out a stool and motioned Ciri to sit on it. The girl did as she said. The sorceress opened the window, feeling the chilly air against her bare skin. It was snowing outside.

She went back and sat down upon the bed, took a brush and brushed the snow out of Ciri’s hair.

“It was just a night terror, my ugly one,” she spoke. Ciri trembled, Yennefer frowned. “Are you cold?”

“No, Lady Yennefer, it’s just…” Ciri sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, Lady Yennefer, I promise not to do that again,”

“Just knock next time. If I don’t wake, knock harder,” she stroked the girl’s hair. “It’s Yule and the walls are slippery. I don’t know how you manage to scale the walls, but please don’t ever do that again,”

Ciri kept quiet and twiddled her thumbs. “Lady Yennefer…?” she asked, her voice akin to that of a mouse.

“Yes, my ugly one?”

Ciri wrinkled her nose. She hated it when she called her that, but she knew she was in no position to talk back to her, so she pretended not to be bothered by it. “It’s snowing outside. When it snowed in Kaer Morhen, Geralt and I and the other witchers would go out for a walk in the morning, sometimes they just throw snowballs at each other,”

“Hmm,”

“So I was wondering…” she fidgeted slightly in her seat. “Maybe if… you want to…”

“I’m not Geralt,” Yennefer put it bluntly.

“Oh,” Ciri said, disappointed. Her head bowed down in silence.

The sorceress sighed. “Perhaps after you’ve finished your studies. If you show remarkable progress, I suppose we can take a walk to the marketplace,”

Ciri’s eyes lit up instantly, but she tried not to show.

“Come,” Yennefer slapped the brush down on her dresser. “It’s bed time for you, my ugly one,”

Ciri hopped into her bed, but hesitated at first. “Are you sure this is fine, Lady Yennefer?” 

“I wouldn’t want to send you back to your chamber, only to have you knock on my door again because of another nightmare. Mother Nenneke would give me more than an earful if she found out what you did earlier,” Yennefer made room for Ciri. “Come now, before I make you sleep on the cold hard floor,”

The girl climbed into bed, and settled into the pillows instantly, pulling Yennefer’s blanket up to her chin. The sorceress blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness. She reached out an arm and laid it across Ciri’s shoulder, hugging her close.

Silence. The room was dark.

“Lady Yennefer?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why do you always wear that scent?”

“Doesn’t it smell nice to you?”

“It does,” then quiet, as though the young girl was thinking. “It’s familiar, though. I think…. I think I sometimes smell it from Geralt’s letters,”

The sorceress did not speak for a good minute. “Sleep, my ugly one. Or else you won’t get that walk tomorrow,”

Then silence, and stillness. There were no movements. And Yennefer knew she was asleep when she heard her even breathing. She opened her eyes, looking at the child in her arm, her face radiating peace and serenity, free from the nightmare that had plagued her earlier.

Yennefer smiled. She missed Geralt, badly, but his gift to her had undoubtedly filled the void in her heart.


End file.
